


that translucent alabaster

by crystalcities



Series: Wout + Mathieu [5]
Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, bike racing, this is always where it's going to come to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalcities/pseuds/crystalcities
Summary: January-May 2017: Two times Wout and Mathieu race against each other.





	that translucent alabaster

**Author's Note:**

> The CX World Championships at Bieles in 2017 was full of technical problems. Everybody punctured everywhere and Mathieu had maybe the most of them. He tried to recover from it, but he couldn’t do it at the end, and I thought given the effort he put in he would definitely have taken the title if he had just slightly better luck. Re: the interview, I was like, they’re just going to make Mathieu talk about this right now?
> 
> I remember all the talk about Wout’s green tyres that were from Niels Alberts’s secret stash since he was forced to retire early due to a health issue. I also remember telling my friend “Katie Compton and Mathieu van der Poel are going to win” before the races and then eating my words (Katie actually had a worse race, breaking her bike on the final lap and had to DNF. I just do this for fun and I'm far far from her level but she's such a role model and I was :( )... Unfortunately I would make exactly the same statement one year later, sigh.

January of 2017 flew past in the blink of an eye. Nationals, Otegem, then Lazio for Wout and Hoogerheide for Mathieu. Then there’s their final blocks of training before Worlds. They met up as often as they could as their schedules allowed, which was far less often than they’d prefer if time was not an issue, but a balance needed to be struck between their conflicting careers and being in love. Suddenly, the World Championship weekend was here.

They weren’t going to see each other until the weekend was over, but it was almost impossible when Bieles was not a big place and they knew they’re just a few minutes apart.

Wout was about to return to his room after dinner on Friday when he got a text:

> _Mathieu van der Poel: want to meet?_

Of course there’s only one acceptable response.

* * *

Mathieu was standing outside, leaning against his car, when Wout pulled up next to him. It’s cold and crisp and Wout could see Mathieu’s breath in his headlights. Mathieu pretended not to see him and continued to look at nothing in particular in the distance. He parked and put on a woolly hat, and walked around to Mathieu’s side, where he’s still pretending to ignore him.

Wout stood close next to Mathieu with their arms almost touching. He cleared his throat.

“Um... Come here often?”

Mathieu spluttered. “Is that the best line you can come up with?”

“Well,” Wout stepped in front of Mathieu, right into his personal space. Mathieu wrapped his arms around Wout’s waist, pressing their bodies flush together. Wout nudged his nose against Mathieu’s and cradled his face with both hands. Mathieu’s cheeks were cold from being out in the winter air. Mathieu’s eyes shut automatically at Wout’s touch and he parted his lips to meet Wout’s, warmly.

“I miss you so much,” Mathieu whispered.

“Me too,” Wout replied without skipping a beat. It’s hardly been a few days. He kissed Mathieu again, deeper. Mathieu scooted sideways, felt around behind him to find the rear door handle and opened it, falling backwards across the backseat and taking Wout with him. Then it’s a tangle of limbs, both of them trying to get comfortable in the awkward space, and trying to get to each other at the same time too.

Mathieu ended up half lying down, with his back against the opposite door. The handle must be digging uncomfortably between his shoulder blades, but Mathieu didn't look like he cared. He was too busy trying to arch his hips up to grind against Wout's thigh instead, so Wout was happy to shove him up even more against the door to give him more friction. He took Mathieu's wrist and pinned it above his head.

"Oh," Mathieu breathed out, pausing, cheeks hot, trying to look up at Wout through his eyelashes.

"Stay there and let me," Wout unzipped his fly and Mathieu's, and kissed him softly. They continued kissing while Wout wrapped a hand around Mathieu's erection, and thrusted against his hips in time, until they were too distracted to kiss properly. Mathieu strained against Wout, just gasping against his lips.

“Wout, stop, I'm gonna come,” Mathieu breathed out.

"Yeah, and?" Wout slowed down, but he couldn't bear to completely stop now.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Are you sure? It’s the race weekend.”

“Never been more sure," Mathieu licked his lips. "Fuck me while you're still World Champion. Last time," The corner of Mathieu’s mouth was turned up in a mischievous smile. It's a deadly combination with his otherwise wanton expression.

“We’ll see,” Wout laughed. He got up to rummage through the glovebox where Mathieu kept supplies. In the meantime Mathieu shimmied out of his jeans and pants. He took off his sweater and laid it under himself.

“Hey, do you have more condoms?” Wout set a few packets of lube on the console.

“There’s none in there? Then no,” Mathieu felt around for a packet of lube and ripped it open with his teeth.

“Mathieu, maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Do it anyways. It’s not like I’m fucking anybody else,” Mathieu looked at him with dark eyes.

Wout hesitated. “I-”

“Please,” Mathieu didn’t let Wout continue the sentence. He shifted sideways, threw one leg over the top of the front seat to give better access to himself. It’s tricky in the small space but this wasn’t the first time they’d done this. He smeared lube all over himself, and pressed two fingers against his entrance, biting his lip and looking at Wout as he did it.

“Come on, let’s be quick,” Mathieu urged. They’re too far gone now, common sense be damned. Wout arranged Mathieu so he’s lying a bit flatter across the seat. He squeezed another packet of lube on his fingers and took over, getting Mathieu ready. Mathieu chased his lips the whole time. If Wout could keep himself from hitting his head on the roof he could sit up a little to align their hips better, hitching Mathieu’s leg up with his thigh folded over his torso and his foot braced against the roof.

Mathieu wrapped both his arms close around Wout’s neck when he entered him. The sensation of being inside Mathieu with bare skin was intense. Mathieu's lashes were downcast, damp and dark with sweat, and he held his breath. Wout soothed him with kisses all over his face.

“I’m going to fuck you, okay?” Wout said softly after a bit.

“Okay- Yes. Fuck me.”

Mathieu held Wout impossibly closer with one arm, stroked his cock with the other. Wout set a languid rhythm. He felt amazing. Mathieu's hot and tight around Wout, and he’s shivering. He felt so close to Mathieu, and he couldn't help picking up the pace even though he thought he wasn't going to last very long at all.

“Wout- fuck, love you. I, want, ah-” Mathieu whispered, squeezing his eyes shut with the intensity. He moved his hand around himself faster. Wout collapsed atop Mathieu, heart racing. He couldn't handle much more of this. He kissed Mathieu, desperately, Mathieu unable to respond much other than panting into his mouth, and spilled inside of him. Mathieu followed a few seconds after, making a mess all over their clothes.

“I love you too,” Wout untangled himself from Mathieu, pulling out gently. Warm liquid leaked out of him with it.

“Yeah,” Mathieu agreed. He reached out for Wout again, holding him close for warmth while his heart rate came down. Now they felt the draft coming in from the open door.

“Where are we going to go from here?” Mathieu asked.

Wout didn’t know how to respond, so he just kissed Mathieu instead.

* * *

They lined up at the grid on Sunday, both confident they’re going to win the rainbow stripes. The race was a muddy affair, and the conditions were difficult. After a season of being plagued with mechanicals, snapped chains and punctures, Wout came out on top in a race defined by technical problems, putting forty-four seconds into Mathieu, and taking the rainbow stripes again. All according to plan. Perhaps there was bad luck on Mathieu’s part, but luck and the technical aspect were part of cyclocross racing. Uncommon as it was, it's also not the first time Wout's beat Mathieu for the top step this season. Nevertheless he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle seeing Mathieu afterwards.

Belgian television was a cruel thing. As was in the past, both Wout and Mathieu were called for live interviews after the race. Wout tried to stay neutral, but with Mathieu barely holding himself together next to him it was quite awkward. When it’s finally over Wout changed into regular clothes as quickly as he could, went to the Beobank-Corendon team area, looking for Mathieu. He ran into David, who looked at him knowingly and nodded towards a trailer. Suddenly Wout had a strong feeling of déjà vu, of almost one year ago at Sint-Niklaas. He remembered thinking that evening, _this is the person who’s going to break my heart._

Wout let himself in. “Hey,” he said gently.

Mathieu sat at the table inside with his head down in his arms, still dressed the same in the orange kit of the Netherlands. Wout took a seat next to him, not sure what to do. He wouldn't have changed a thing about the results but somehow it seemed easier before when he wasn't in a relationship with Mathieu. Mathieu looked up at him. His eyes were red but his tears were dry now.

“Mathieu-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mathieu looked down at the table again. “It was bad luck. Sometimes there’s 100 rocks on the course and you don’t get a puncture. Other times you puncture the first time you hit something.”

“Yeah.”

“You won a fair race. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Wout said. He looked around, feeling awkward as the silence stretched between them. Mathieu held still, seemingly lost in thought. Wout wanted to hug him, but would it be appropriate? Wout was frozen in inaction.

Finally Mathieu broke the silence.

“I was thinking... I think it might best if we don’t see each other for a while.”

Wout swallowed.

“I need some time to think about this.”

Wout nodded. He reached out to touch Mathieu. Mathieu tensed visibly and Wout stopped short.

“I’m sorry,” Wout said, withdrawing.

“You can,” Mathieu closed his eyes and let Wout hold him. Wout listened to Mathieu desperately trying to keep his breathing steady in his arms.

* * *

Wout kept his distance for the remainder of the cyclocross season. They wrapped it up at Oostmalle, Wout taking a final win to make up for another series of second places. Afterwards, weeks turned into months, and there was nothing from Mathieu. Wout tried to contact him from time to time but Mathieu’s responses were sporadic. Wout thought he probaby just needed more space.

With the off season, Wout had a lot of time to think about the past year, and where it all started. What he thought was misplaced passion for a rival had became something else, or maybe his interest in Mathieu had began as affection, and Wout wanted to deny it.

They let their relationship grow over the spring and summer, without trying. Mathieu was a bit unpredictable, aloof at times and passionate at others, but when he’d always met Wout wherever his desires were at. When they're together Mathieu was sweet to him in a way he didn't expect. They never talked about what it meant, and that suited Wout just fine. He didn’t want to turn his life and career upside down, and he seemed to be getting away with it.

At the close of the summer Mathieu suggested that they took a break, just while they’re racing each other in the cyclocross season. He was back to training full time after recovering from his knee injury, and he had a lot of work to catch up on. He already had to skip a month of racing, and the press was full of sensational speculation on whether it's going to affect Mathieu’s career. It would be good to have fewer distractions, Mathieu said. Wout said he was fine with it, that once the season started they wouldn’t be able to find time anyways between all the training and racing and traveling. It didn’t feel final. They were mostly successful at being apart, just exchanging texts and a couple phone calls throughout the first part of the season, and they’d kept it innocent, more or less. When they saw each other at races they acted like they would in the past, giving nothing away to the public. Wout felt a sense of giddy pleasure about keeping a secret only between them. Wout admitted that his thoughts didn’t match his actions at all and he thought about Mathieu all the time in all kinds of ways.

In the meantime Mathieu raced stronger than ever. Wout tried every weekend. Mathieu liked to go out fast, and from time to time Wout could follow the attack. He tried the best he could to make the two-up stick until the final lap, if one of them wasn't being put out of contention by a mechanical. At some point he realized Mathieu was frustratingly better than he was. In the past he made up for being less technically gifted with superior strength, but Mathieu's matched him in it this season. Perhaps his injury period gave him extra rest that he needed. Sometimes, Wout found himself consciously racing for second after Mathieu’s put half a minute into the field, something that was once unthinkable to him.

Wout wasn't as bothered by this as he thought he would be. He's even a little bit proud of Mathieu.

In retrospect there was definitely a point when their relationship changed. They met up the day after they rode home from Koksijde, and then they couldn't stop being together, and something felt different. For a whole two months, preciously little time, they were inseparable.

Wout’s not ready to even begin considering what it all meant. Wout might have an idea what Mathieu wanted him to do and what commitments to make, in the few times they'd started talking about it, but were too afraid to continue. Wout was content to prolong the status quo of this secret relationship, even though he knew it's an unreasonable arrangement. He thought Mathieu knew he’s the one he loved most, and that’s the best he could do right now. Perhaps if they’d had more time...

Wout had gotten used to Mathieu seeking him out, and now that he'd drifted away Wout felt desperate for him.

They were never good at talking about their relationship, but Wout couldn't let it go like this now.

* * *

The next time they had to see each other was at the Belgium Tour. Mathieu started the race in between the Nové Město and Albstadt cross-country World Cups, switching effortlessly between disciplines. At stage two, both Wout and Mathieu ended up on the sharp end of the race, along with Philipe Gilbert, winner of de Ronde, just a month earlier. In the last few hundred metres they fought to position themselves, trying to stay out of the wind until the last possible moment. Mathieu forced Wout to the front. The finish line was coming up fast, and Wout just had to go. He knew how explosive Mathieu was and a longer sprint was when he could have a chance. It didn’t work. Mathieu anticipated the move and stuck to his wheel, using him as a lead out to take the win. Philipe followed for second, and Wout finished third.

“Mathieu, congratulations. That was a good battle,” Wout stopped him on his way out. Road races were a lot more relaxed in terms of fans and Wout caught him in a quieter area behind the busses and trailers.

“Thank you,” Mathieu replied coolly. He gave Wout one of those half-smiles he gave to the public when he’s required to. He made no effort to continue the conversation.

“Wait- Can we talk?”

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you,” Mathieu said.

Wout stepped close in front of Mathieu, looking at him directly. “That’s not true.”

“Okay, what do you want?” Mathieu said flatly.

“What’s going on with us?”

Mathieu’s eyes flickered, while they were previously just blank pools of slate blue, schooled to reveal nothing.

“I need to focus on my career,” Mathieu replied. His voice was carefully steady.

“You were doing fine last season,” Wout said. Mathieu’s statement felt rehearsed to him.

“I wasn’t good enough.”

“Are you referring to Worlds?” Wout dared to breach the topic. “There’s only one winner in racing. You said it yourself, sometimes it’s luck. I took my share of second places,” _a lot of them, and I didn’t react by ignoring you,_ he thought.

Mathieu continued to keep his expression neutral, but Wout could see the minor tick in it that gave it all away.

“I wasn’t good enough,” Mathieu repeated. He looked down at the pavement, realizing he couldn't hide anything from Wout. “I knew I was the strongest there, physically, but I couldn’t focus properly when I’m involved with you. Just like at Zolder, I could have done something differently after my mechanicals,” Mathieu’s voice took on a rough edge. “But I couldn’t because of you.”

That was the most preposterous statement Wout had ever heard. That's what Mathieu came up with, after all these months?

“Mathieu, please- that’s not true. Not that you couldn't have recovered, but that I-”

Mathieu looked up. His eyes had turned glassy. He blinked a few times, took a deep breath, and continued a little unsteadily, all at once: “I’m a bike racer. I love to win. I like competing against you, and I- I like a lot of other things about you, too. I don't want it to be one or the other, but if that's the way it's going to be- It’s time for me to make a choice, if you’re not going to,” he paused, trembling.

Wout swallowed, a tightness rising from the bottom of his stomach. Suddenly he thought about Mathieu admitting his love for him, and how his first reaction was about how they couldn’t be in love, even though he’d realized long ago that he returned the feelings. It would be impossible with their lives. Suddenly, Wout felt like he knew what this confrontation was coming to. He felt like he knew what Mathieu was going to say, but he dreaded it all the same.

“However I feel about you, it’s clear I don’t have a role in your future, but my career- it's all mine.”

And there it was. Wout took shaky breaths, couldn’t tear his eyes from Mathieu, his image growing blurry through tears. All his conflicted feelings were forced to the surface.

"That's not true- You're being unfair. We've never-"

"I can take a hint," Mathieu said softly.

He waited, like he’s expecting a concession from Wout. He’s crying too, tears falling silently, his arms tense next to his sides, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The fact that Wout’s the cause of his tears broke Wout's heart more than his own feelings.

Wout wanted to say something, anything to keep Mathieu there. Mathieu's mistaken. He couldn't just make decisions like that by himself. _Stay with me. I love you. We'll make it work._ But the words seemed stuck in his throat.

“Forget it, Wout, this is for the best,” Mathieu wiped his face on his arm, and tried to compose himself a little before walking away.

* * *

Mathieu didn't start the next stage of the race. It was planned—he was only going to race two stages before traveling to Germany to race cross-country. Wout didn't want to think, didn't have time to think too much, with the time trial and the general classification to focus on.

Two stages later, after he's worn and lost the red jersey of the race leader, he sat alone on the bus and stared out of the window, thoughts flooding his mind, as the team made its way to the next hotel. Two days ago, he was about to step over the threshold, and he couldn't know whether it's a cliff's edge or something else on the other side until he'd crossed it. When he went to confront Mathieu his heart told him to take a chance with love, but everything else screamed for him to step back, don't throw everything away, it's hard enough to make it as a pro rider. It hurt that he could have made a different decision, acted differently, given Mathieu more, before they got to that point, but who could say the risk was worth it? Maybe Mathieu was right that they're only going to distract each other.

He missed Mathieu. He thought he’d be getting used to that feeling by now.

Perhaps Wout had always known this was the inevitable conclusion, and he's a little bit relieved the decision was out of his hands. He loved Mathieu but he's not ready for the consequences.

Bike racing was the only thing they knew how to do. Their careers were tangled together whether they liked it or not. They’re just starting out. At twenty-two, his future was on the road, and he thought Mathieu’s was too, despite his current forays on the trail. He fantasized a world where they're together, perhaps they even raced for the same team, but Tom Boonen and Fabian Cancellara would never have accepted that. Road racing was a team sport and their talents would be wasted to not be the favored riders in the crown jewels of the classics.

_Where are we going to go from here?_

Wout's going to allow himself some time for the pain to fade into a dull ache, then he’s going to return to some sort of normalcy in his life, like before all this with Mathieu. He's going to apologize to Sarah, whom he owed a lot.

The thing was, more often than ever, when he’s with Sarah all he could think about when he closed his eyes were firm muscles, lanky limbs, and short blond hair, a darker shade, plastered down with sweat. He ran his hands along soft skin on the sides of her belly and he thought about how Mathieu would shiver at his touch, the swell of the muscle above his hipbones tensing. He pressed his lips in the soft hair in between the V of her hips, and he thought about how that made Mathieu suck in a breath, his hand tightening in his hair, looking for more. He looked up at Mathieu from there, at rings of blue barely visible, pupils blown dark with desire, of a physical sort but also of something else more intense in a way only Mathieu was capable of.

_Fuck._

Wout would just keep all of that to himself, seared forever into his memory.

He would never love somebody again the way he loved Mathieu. He loved Sarah too, but Mathieu was something else.

Wout’s going to make himself move on from this.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a lot of fun reminiscing on races that happened three seasons ago, but also I'm heartbroken that I already watched the last season of Wout and Mathieu racing together in cross without knowing it because it sounded like Wout's going to miss the season entirely due to injury and I'm convinced this is going to be Mathieu's last (as a serious thing, I think the writing's been on the wall since he won the WC).
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Links:  
[CX World Championships Bieles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Z_NTj-xKIg), [highlights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUAbuV5S8Tw)  
[Belgium Tour Stage 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IR2j7ndn1Ns)


End file.
